


👾

by saretus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Barbed Penis, Drabble Sequence, Knotting, M/M, Oviposition, Painful Sex, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 04:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saretus/pseuds/saretus
Summary: Ignis will stay with them, no matter how much they hurt him.





	👾

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lagerstatte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/gifts).

Noct’s appendages are rough to the touch, suckers drawing at each open wound across the exposed expanse of Ignis’ skin; they’re painful, possessive. Noct always went first, demanded it; the other two never protest, would die if they did. 

The slick slide of his tentacle’s girth inside makes Ignis writhe. It doesn’t aim for his prostate. Even if it did, Ignis won’t be able to stand it. The pleasure is agony, here. He can’t let it end even if he should. 

Ignis’ head drops back onto Noct’s shoulder. A tongue flicks his cheek, slick with Scourge. 

“Mine,” his King croons. 

Ignis fails to come, even after another tentacle invades his entrance, stretching him more than he should be stretched. Noct comes, though: the viscous black of his ejaculate oozes out of Ignis’ torn hole, flecks stinging light incisions as the appendages retreat. 

Noct wraps an arm around his waist, hauling Ignis closer to his chest. Noct has twelve tentacles. They coil around his limbs, across his mouth. They nearly choke him. 

Ignis doesn’t think he’s in the state to protest such a fate. In weaker moments like these, he wishes he would— 

“Again.” The hiss draws a quiet, quiet sob. 

Noct comes in him a fifth time and stays. A hazy veil numbs the pain. Drool makes a mess of Ignis’ chin. 

“Did you break again?” 

Ignis barely registers the words. He stares at the ceiling. 

“You know I can’t control it…” 

There are cracks in the ceiling plaster. A haphazard tree branch, forking out thrice separately. 

Pressure at his entrance. The tentacle widens with an object. It breaches him. Sinks in. Is pushed further when Noct presses deeper. 

“That’s it, Specs.” Noct’s pleased. A hand rests on Ignis’ belly. 

Another comes, then another, like the forks in the tree. 

Appendages blanket him against Noct’s torso when Gladio pads in. The Shield’s body is contorted with muscle, taut hide for skin. His talons click on the marble as he approaches with prowling gait. 

His face is vaguely human. A growl echoes from his chest, “you done with him?” 

Noct shifts. Pain shoots up Ignis’ spine: something tears, the heaviness inside scraping raw flesh. Sudden emptiness allows for the eggs to slip out and Ignis suppresses a whimper. 

Gladio grips Ignis' ankle. The points of his claws sink into flesh. 

“Careful,” Gladio snarls. The irony forces a choked laugh from Ignis. 

“Now look who’s not being careful,” Noct mutters as Ignis scrabbles at his chest in agony. It takes everything not to whimper and cry as Gladio thrusts into him. He would have otherwise collapsed if not for the tentacles wrapped around his wrists, and midsection. 

Noct’s hand brushes Ignis’ hairline. Ignis forehead touches the rough membrane of Noct’s torso and knows he doesn’t deserve the caresses that follow. He hadn’t been able to save any of them, after all. 

“We’re doing this ‘cause we love you, Specs.” The only comfort Noct ever offers now. 

Ignis swallows a sob. “I know.” 

Gladio swells inside him. His knot clogs the excessive amount of cum inside from both him and Noct, and Ignis’ insides wrench with a deep, deep pain. 

He writhes involuntarily to get away from the grinding pressure at his prostate. Agony blossoms at the base of his spine, and gasps spill from his lips. He thinks he screams as he blacks out. 

He comes back to himself with Noct hushing him, fingers trailing through his hair, and a gaping emptiness in his rear. 

Everything hurts. 

“One more,” Noct whispers. Rough lips move over Ignis’ forehead, a grotesque imitation of love. 

Blonde fur greets Ignis’ vision. If this were a better situation, he would call Prompto beautiful after his transformation. As it is, Ignis closes his eyes. Prompto noses at his neck, sniffing and licking, a mockery of past affection as claws rest on bruised and bloody hips. 

Tentacles guide his legs to hook over Prompto’s hinds and keep them there. “This will hurt,” Noct murmurs to him, as if Ignis hasn’t been hurt already. 

Prompto grins above him, feline and feral, everything he wasn’t before. 

He pushes into Ignis. It’s sharp and stinging, carving jaggedly along his entrance. 

Ignis screams. 

Unconsciousness, or even death, would be a blessing at this point. Ignis would wish fervently for it if not for the fact that he deserves this: the way Prompto grinds into him, a constant, burning pressure, the way barbs twist and shred at Ignis' insides, the way he contorts finally, crying out, and comes abruptly with no warning or pleasure. 

Noct moans in his ear. Tentacles crawl up Ignis’ inner thighs, a hard, human erection drags against the small of his back. 

“Specs,” Noct whispers. 

Prompto keeps going. A rough tongue scrapes the hollow of Ignis’ throat. 

Then Prompto bites. 

Blood. 

The vibrancy of it shocks Ignis. He supposes he expected it to stay around his arse rather than down his front, across the sheets, contrasted against the grey membrane of Noct’s skin. Ignis chokes on it. 

His vision swims in and out. Prompto hissing loudly, Noct snapping at him, Gladio finally appearing again to drag Prompto off with the strength of his jaw. 

Noct, carrying him. Noct, weaving Scourge-tainted magic through Ignis’ body. Noct, inviting wounds to sew together and coaxing air steadily into his lungs with gentle, open-mouthed kisses. 

Noct, wiping away tears Ignis didn’t know he’d shed. 

“I wished to save you.” 

It hurts to speak. Ignis shouldn’t be surprised, though—everything always hurt. From the stinging, deep pains in his rear to the way Noct smiles at his words, short and simple and sweet. 

“And I wanted to save everyone.” Noct pulls him close, appendages slithering over scars and bruises. Ignis could almost believe they were younger, with only homework and council meetings on the horizon and a bride to be wed. “Stay here, Iggy?” A murmur pressed to his chin with a kiss. A tentacle slides up his hip, demanding. 

Ignis closes his eyes. “Always.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcome! All the same, I hope you enjoyed it, Lagerstatte! As well as the other readers who were brave enough to click through...


End file.
